Wait For My Signal
by fahRENheit2006
Summary: An added scene on the Mass Effect 3 canon ending, pre-Extended Cut, to bridge the gap between Shepard, Normandy and the rest of the galaxy during the final decision. Shepard gender and LI ambiguous to work for any of the main squadmates. First person POV via LI.
1. We Face Our Enemy Together

**Ren's Note:**

_This is full of spoilers so if you haven't beaten ME3, you've been warned. _

_This takes the ending at face-value without any of the prevailing theories regarding indoctrination. The final choices seemed appropriately epic with high stakes. And I was moved by the emotion involved in the decision. That's my review in a nutshell._

_However, the plot hole parts that struck me were __**A)**__ that Shepard would not have consulted anyone about what they wanted, since everyone left behind would have to live with his/her choice (think V for Vendetta), __**B)**__ that Shepard didn't warn anyone that the mass relays were going to be destroyed so thousands of disparate races from the fleets would have been trapped on Earth, and __**C) **__…where the hell was the Normandy going, and how did everyone get on it so quickly?_

_I do my best to address these points though I took some liberties, of course. And as always: Mass Effect is property of Bioware. _

* * *

><p>"Shepard? Shepard! Come in, Commander!" I could hear Admiral Hackett's stern repeat into the intercom as I dive out of the elevator into the CIC. Lieutenant James Vega and the Prothean Javik are a step behind me when I leap for the cockpit.<p>

Joker's hands fly over the control screens, adjusting calibrations as the ship swoops around blasts from Reaper cannons. The front of the Normandy is completely obscured by Joker's instrumentation. Only when you look out the starboard or port windows is the battle visible.

It is utter chaos above Earth. Small geth fighters bob between larger quarian dreadnoughts pounding away at Reaper ships. Alliance bombers and Kodiak drop ships collect into tight battle formations to protect turian cruisers from the angry red assault of Reaper oculus fighters. The open Citadel sits in the background, caught in the middle of the merciless Reaper assault above and on Earth.

And somewhere in that gleaming black monolith, Shepard had made it. The last thing I'd seen as Admiral Anderson's forces had double-timed it toward the teleportation beam was a bright flash of light and James wrestling with me against a tank. I had fought against him, but I had been too slow to join Shepard in the final push to that beam. James had saved my life, though I wasn't feeling too grateful knowing Shepard was in there somewhere. Without me.

We all scattered to get away from Harbinger, because even from a distance I could feel the pull of indoctrination. My vision was hazy and black around the edges, obscured by more than just dust kicked up around the ruins of London. I heard whispers, cries of pain, felt the sting of memories long since buried.

I wanted to stay to help the wounded, but I was shoved into an Alliance Kodiak by a shouting human marine. We would be cut to pieces by Harbinger if we did not retreat, he said. Like Shepard.

The Normandy met us in the mesosphere above what remained of England for pick-up, but I was too numb from the devastation. How long were we riding in that Kodiak? Hours? Minutes? I had chanced a look out the window, but it was always the same in every direction. Ships, both Reaper and rebel, zipped by amidst chunks of metal from fallen brothers and sisters.

Bright orange bursts dotted the surface below. The hallmark of the Reaper invasion. This was what extinction looked like. How long would it take those shadows to darken the sky of every world and raze them to the ground? Or melt our people into new Reapers to terrorize future cycles?

I was grateful when the view suddenly changed to the inside of the Normandy shuttle bay, but that meant I was jolted back to reality with the painful question: What happened to Shepard?

A burst of static woke me from my reminiscent stupor of just minutes ago. "—This is Shepard—"

My heart resumed its pounding. That voice. I didn't think I would ever hear it again. Always patient. Thoughtful. Strong. But I could hear a falter in that once undefeatable soldier, an extra wincing intake of air, a groan masked as an exhale.

"Shepard! Are you with Anderson? What happened?" Hackett's holographic form wavers in agitation above EDI's copilot console.

"Anderson is dead. The Illusive Man killed him." I hadn't known Anderson well, but his loss still strikes hard. He had been the face of the resistance on Earth, the one who stayed behind to give people hope while we had been running behind Shepard. But… the Illusive Man? What had happened up there? How did Cerberus get there before us?

I see digital Hackett pause, his brow furrowing and scarred lips tightening. I lean forward to patch into the communication, but Hackett beat me to the question I want… no, NEED… an answer to.

"Are you all right, Shepard?"

A wet, laboring cough in reply. "Took some fire from Harbinger. Anderson and I both took shots from the Illusive Man before he went down."

Shepard is hurt. Possibly dying. I can't even will myself to breathe at this point. My lungs simply will not accept air. I feel a consoling hand on my shoulder, but I refuse to make eye contact with its owner out of fear of just losing it.

Hackett smoothes a hand over his chin with a sigh, then holds his fist to his chin in a silent prayer. It is a moment before he speaks again, his voice thick with emotion.

"Admiral Anderson was a great man. I'm just sorry it had to end like that." Another pause before returning to business. "Our forces fled when Harbinger landed. That goddamn monstrosity was vaporizing ground units from a kilometer away. I'm just glad someone made it to that beam. I think it thinks you're dead, Shepard, because there hasn't been any additional surge in Reaper activity. Can you activate the Crucible?"

"About that, sir. There's a small problem."

A small problem. Shepard always was fond of understatement. Sometimes that soldier's humor baffles me, but I can hold my own with the Commander. Though not in a situation like this. Saren and the Collectors were a "small problem" to Shepard. I can't even imagine what sick joke of a small problem the galaxy has up its sleeve this time.

"I didn't think it would be that easy. It never is," Hackett says tightly, the stress showing.

"I can use the Crucible to control the Reapers, destroy them, or… turn every living thing in the galaxy into an organic-synthetic hybrid…" Shepard's communication trails off into a fit of coughing, and my heart does that little flip again.

"Come again, Commander?"

"It's—it's just like it sounds. The Reapers think they're protecting us from synthetics," Shepard's voice raises in exasperation. "If we all become partly synthetic, there's no more conflict."

"What makes you think any of these options will work?"

"I don't know. This… Catalyst… This… spokesperson for the Reapers… never anticipated the Crucible being completed. And now that it is, it's letting us decide how …we—we want to …stop the cycle…" The energy leeches from Shepard's words. I have to physically cover my eyes to block out the mental image of the Commander covered in blood, staggering about some strange chamber on the Citadel. Weakening by the minute.

"I see…" Hackett's cheek twitches but his expression remains neutral. "What do you think we should do, Shepard?"

"I… shouldn't make that decision in a vacuum, sir. Everyone will have to live with the consequences."

Hackett nodded. "I'll radio the fleets, try to get some consensus." I felt a sudden pang of sadness when I thought of Legion, always gathering consensus. Another sacrifice for the greater good. But I had my doubts the new geth would volunteer for the destroy option.

Was this going to go to a vote, who lives and who dies? I know that in the end, it'll be Shepard's call. And it'll be the right one.

"I also need you to order a full retreat on my command. Tell everyone they need to go home. Now."

The whole room, probably the entire galactic fleet, fell silent at this. Is Shepard admitting defeat? My hand digs into Joker's chair but I don't notice the pain. One minute, I'm dying to speak to Shepard, to hear that voice again even with the entire fleet listening. Now, I'm still. I'm afraid. After all this, all that we'd been through, was Shepard giving up?

"Say again, Commander?"

"Everyone needs to get back to the mass relay." After a sharp throat-clearing to muffle the pain, Shepard continues. "The war is over, Admiral. When I activate the Crucible, the mass relays are going to be destroyed. Everyone needs to get out unless they want to take the long way home for a few decades." I hear… what is that? Is that a smug smirk? Even now, Shepard can make a joke out of this? I don't know if I want to hug or hit that bastard.

"Are you sure? Without the fleet, you're at the mercy of the Reapers. If we leave, you'll be completely exposed. You'll have 5 minutes. At the most." At least Hackett is making sure. I wonder if Shepard is sane at this point, because how can this be a solution?

"5 minutes is about all I have left anyway. But I'll hold on as long as I have to."

Mine is not the only gasp in the Normandy at this ominous statement. I can't handle the radio silence anymore, nor can I keep the strained quiver out of my voice. "What are you saying, Shepard?"

A pause, then Shepard's voice softens, "Hey. I was hoping I'd speak to you again. Are you safe?" Even now, Shepard is worried about me. I have to brush the concern aside, because this is not the place for the conversation I'd rather be having.

"I'm fine, we made it back on the Normandy. …What are you saying, Shepard?" I repeat, this time with an emphatic edge.

"It's …bad. I'm putting pressure where I can, but I don't have much time left. And it doesn't matter anyway. Once the Crucible is activated, there's no coming back."

I don't know how I find the courage to ask, "What—what happens to you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"What. Happens. To you." The hysteria rises in my words, but I don't care anymore.

"I think you know."

"I need you to say it." Otherwise I'll refuse to believe it.

I hear a barely audible sigh and can't help gritting my teeth in dread while my eyes close of their own accord to brace for the worst.

"I die. To be a template for synthesis. To absorb my consciousness into the Reapers to control them. To destroy the Reapers and all synthetics, including the pieces inside me. It's the same choice for me. What matters is what YOU want from this."

"…I want YOU, Shepard."

It always came down to these moments. Our last. We had been here before, up against impossible odds counting down the hours to battle. I had been just as presumptuous then, encouraged by our mutual building flirtations. A lingering holding of hands. Eye contact for a little longer than necessary. That little curl of a smile when the Commander didn't think I noticed. Such a tease.

And then? We were past blushing like children. Then we were bold. We talked openly about our past. I shared memories while Shepard attentively listened. I got a straight answer when I asked "How are you doing, Shepard?" instead of a canned response. When we needed to, we could draw on each other for comfort and accept it as a natural condition of our relationship. Comfort. It was all we had left, wasn't it? We certainly didn't have time left.

More time. There was never enough time. For everything I wanted. For everything I needed. Just… to be with Shepard. Where the din of fighting could be quiet for a few damn minutes and we could just be together. Us. Just us.

This thing between us. It had always been there, since the moment we met. Even when it didn't have a name or we were too blind to really see what we were. Together… We were better together than we ever were apart. If only we hadn't wasted so much damn time being apart. Worrying. All those stupid worries. Adding up all those wasted worries amounts to days, weeks, maybe even months we should have had together.

Our last time together. Had it only been hours ago? I invited myself in to Shepard's cabin, abandoning what remained of protocol. How pointless the chain of command seemed compared to the end of everything.

"This is it" had been our theme for so long. No more wasting chances to say goodbye or say how we felt.

That look, that touch. I still feel a ghost of a caress on my arm and I have to resist the urge to reach my hand out for the one not there.

The awkward fumblings of before were also easily forgotten. It was hard to believe I'd once struggled for words in this situation, when we were such a natural fit. This time had been blessedly different. There was no awkward small talk while feeling each other out for intentions. "Now or never" was the unspoken rule of the night as we counted down the fairytale ending to Shepard's intercom buzzing to dive into yet another mass relay of doom.

Shepard had been quiet. Tender. Sad. No less passionate than I remembered, but I knew the galactic burden was taking its toll. We managed to escape that burden in our moments of ecstasy, and we clung to them over and over again.

I was always asking Shepard if we should retire to sleep, but I could see panic flash in my lover's eyes at the suggestion. But even catching up on two years of wasted time couldn't keep sleep at bay forever.

It had become so easy over time, even with two years lost. Those two years had been hell, thinking Shepard was dead. And that damn console on Cronos Station just confirmed it. Shepard wasn't comatose or MIA. Shepard was dead.

And now Shepard would be dead again. I can't bear it. There's no goodbye for this, no suitable words to accept this with dignity. I'm stunned into silence, which thankfully Hackett took over.

"We're coordinating the fleets, Commander. There will be a mass exodus to the Sol Relay on my command, and you will have only a few minutes to make your choice."

Several thick swallows, then Shepard murmurs out through gritted teeth, "What do they want me to do?"

"The Salarians, Elcor and Krogan favor control, the Geth, Vorcha and Volus prefer synthesis, the Turians, Asari and Alliance say destroy the bastards. It's a three-way tie, Commander."

"Un—understood, Hackett," Shepard says faintly. The worst decision in the universe, and it's all up to Shepard. It always is.

"I'll give you a sign when I'm close. Everyone needs to run. Now."

Joker shifts in his chair as he springs the Normandy into action, murmuring something about "I don't want to be anywhere near that thing when it goes off." I don't even care where we're going. It doesn't matter now, does it?

I don't know what to say, but I can't just say nothing. "Shepard…"

A soft pause, before a soft reply, "I know. I'll let you know when it's time. Go."


	2. An End Once and For All

**Ren's Note:**

_Just the wrap-up to this piece. Kept the ambiguous flavor, but I thought Shepard's signal should be unique to each love interest._

_Lines from _Invictus_ by William Henley (the poem Ashley reads when she becomes a Spectre)  
>Title of both chapters are song titles from the ME3 OST<em>

_Thanks for the memories, Bioware. It's been a crazy ride._

* * *

><p>I chance a glance out the window. The chaos is organizing too slowly. Not everyone will make it, I realize. It's not much warning, especially with Reaper ships pressing an assault.<p>

How many will die trying to save themselves? And is it worse to live, to return to your own burning world? Cut off from each other after we fought so hard to unite?

The open Citadel is unsettling. With the ward arms completely peeled back, the station is a black star silhouetted against the crimson and blue of Earth on fire. It's hard to celebrate that the war will be over. Especially knowing Shepard is down there somewhere.

I am brought back to the harsh reality as Joker and EDI fight to maneuver around a torrent of panicked ships all headed for the Sol Relay. Unable to be of assistance to them, I numbly fall into the ever-empty co-pilot chair on the cockpit's port side.

Vega is dabbing medigel on a wound above my brow, but I shoo him away. I'll live. It just doesn't seem that way right now.

My hands clench and unclench at nervous intervals. I have to dig my gloved fingernails into my palms to stay focused. I think I ask Joker where it is we're going, then again a little louder.

"Remember the last time we lost a mass relay? It blew shit up. A LOT of shit. Maybe Shepard's right, that everything will be okay. Do you really want to be around when that thing goes off?" He favors me with an uncertain frown, but quickly covers with a reassuring smile before returning his attention to his console.

EDI drones on about statistics about the likelihood of a mass relay supernova or what the Crucible is capable of. I'm too distracted by the glowing comm button on the console in front of me. That's where Shepard is supposed to signal what remains of our Sword and Shield forces to abandon the Crucible. There's a constant buzzing of other comm chatter as Hackett mobilizes the Alliance forces while siphoning off what alien forces we can spare to hit the relay.

Minutes tick by as Joker swings the Normandy in dizzying loops around the open Citadel, offering what fire support he can. At least he's not a coward. Staying as long as possible before jumping off.

It's actually Specialist Traynor who chimes in to ask what we're all wondering. "Um, Joker? Where are we even going? I'm not complaining if you're looking for a nice beach planet, but it'd be nice to not be scuttled into a dead system."

Her sarcastic inflection evokes a laugh from Vega along with a "Hey, a beach planet sounds nice to me. Reaper-free." Joker just trails off, muttering. I can only catch one word and it doesn't make any sense. Triptych? Trippy? Triptee? I don't know what that is. It doesn't matter.

"Admiral, do you read me?" Shepard's voice crackles faintly onto the intercom. I shrilly shout for everyone to be quiet. Even Joker ceases his angry muttering.

"We read you, Commander."

"Just… just checking in. H-how is the retreat going?" Thick swallows accompany a wet cough. Shepard doesn't have much time. My nails dig sharply into my palms but I hold my tongue.

"We're doing the best we can, Commander. The bulk of the quarian fleet has jumped but they have more than a half dozen relays to reach the other side of the galaxy. Half the geth have followed while the other half remain behind to protect the fleets and the Crucible. They are 'not adverse to remaining in human space' since they won't consume resources."

"They can stay in the guest house," Shepard cracks weakly.

"We'll figure it out. The major turian and asari frigates have been recalled, but we're going to lose a lot of krogan. We don't have the time to arrange dropships to pick up forces already stationed on Earth. Going to be a lot of hungry krogan and turians to feed when this is over." Without Hackett's hologram nervously rubbing its neck, I can't tell if the Admiral is serious or joking.

"…that's Earth, a regular melting pot." Even Joker rolls his eyes at Shepard's lame joke. I tap the Open Comm button with my unopened fist.

"How are you holding up, Shepard?"

Is that a smile I hear in that voice? What I wouldn't give for a hologram patch in. I need to SEE Shepard, dammit. "I've been better. I blacked out once, so I'm almost ready to call it."

"Call it?"

"You know, in poker. Call the bet."

"I was never very good at poker."

"I know. I could have taught you a few things, I was pretty good." I nearly tuned out Shepard's words after the use of past tense. _I could have… I was…_

"You still can."

"…You need to go." Wait. I'm not ready.

Hackett chimes in, "Shepard?"

"I'm s-sorry, Hackett. I can't anymore. If I don't now, we …don't get another chance."

A long pause. I exchange a sick glance with Joker, who chews on his cheek. His hands ball up in front of his console and his head drops. We all hold our breath, then exhale sadly at odd intervals. There's no good prayer for something like this.

Hackett breaks the silence, ever the diplomat. "Understood, Commander. Sword and Shield fleets, on my signal, disengage from Reaper forces. Either head to the Sol Relay and jump to your homeworld, or get a safe FTL distance away to return to Earth when hostilities have hopefully ceased."

"Are we really doing this?" It's Vega who's the voice of doubt. Joker holds his hands over his console, rolling his thumbs over his fingertips nervously. There's no Commander here to give orders. We never really established a chain of command beyond Shepard, because there was never any point. Without Shepard, we were dead. Without Shepard, I'm dead.

"All forces, retreat!" Hackett's booming voice broke the stalemate as Joker flew back into pilot mode. I look out the portside window one last time.

It's a breathtaking sight. The sun chose this moment to peek over the far eastern side of the planet. Brilliant rays bathe the Citadel in golden light and block out the angry orange bursts on Earth below. All I can see is the dark shadows of blue and green of Earth, and the brightening intensity of the slowly spinning Citadel.

And then it's replaced by blurring blackness. Pinpricks of light zoom by as the Normandy's speed increases, marred by the blue shift bouncing off the kinetic shields.

"Reaper forces are not giving chase, Commander. We diverted about 70% of their fleet with our retreat, but now they are turning all their efforts on the Citadel. It's …now or never, Shepard." Hackett's official tone wavered, before returning, "The Fifth Fleet will give you as much time as you need. And …good luck, Shepard. Hackett out."

I start shaking. It starts in my hands and the shockwave quickly overtakes the rest of my body. I nearly fall forward, bracing my hands on the console in front of me. My eyes remain unblinking on that Comm panel, waiting for Shepard's signal. It's cruel that the last thing I will see of Shepard will be a frequency line on a computer screen.

It's all quiet with only a light whooshing sound and the hum of the kinetic barrier. Planets are whipping by the window. I recognize the tan, yellow and red mass of Jupiter as it passes. I hear Joker making a countdown to hit the relay. But it's all just white noise to me. It doesn't matter at all.

I'm not ready for this. I told Shepard I was, when we said our goodbyes. But I lied. No one is ever ready for something like this. Would it be better, if Shepard were here? Everything will be different. We lost so much, so many. Nothing will be the same ever again. We lost that comfort 3 years ago when Saren attacked Eden Prime. We were damned 50,000 years, even millennia ago, when the Reapers started their dark journey. And for what? It doesn't make sense. It never did.

We were just caught up in the storm. Maybe one day things will make sense again. On another world, in another time, where we can all live in peace.

I just don't want to live there alone.

There is a burst of static over the intercom, 20 seconds before Joker would hit the relay.

"I …I made my decision. Take care of yourself."

Hot tears roll down my cheeks when I hear my signal, but they are lost to the black we are shooting off towards. Never to return.

* * *

><p>"It matters not how strait the gate,<br>How charged with punishments the scroll,  
>I am the master of my fate:<br>I am the captain of my soul."

**- For Ashley**

* * *

><p>"After time adrift among open stars.<br>Among tides of light and shoals of dust.  
>I will return to where I began.<p>

Keelah se'lai."

**- For Tali**

* * *

><p>"You'll never be alone.<p>

I'll see you at the bar. First round is on me.

Just like old times."

**- For Garrus**

* * *

><p>"In the good times and bad, give us hope and a fighting chance.<p>

I'll be waiting for you.

You better show up."

**- For Kaidan**

* * *

><p>"You can't get back everything you lose.<p>

But sometimes, you get lucky.

Embrace eternity."

**- For Liara**


End file.
